


wouldn't let it show

by harperuth



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Daddy Kink, Fight Sex, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Transformers: Age of Extinction (2014), they both want to do it at the time it's just...weird afterwards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:54:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28444977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harperuth/pseuds/harperuth
Summary: Grimlock huffed a massive breath of his own. “Them Crosshairs Bumblebee could determine leader like old ways.”Crosshairs’ stare gained a gleam that Bee didn’t like. “That’s the first good idea that hunk of old metal has had yet.”
Relationships: Bumblebee/Crosshairs (Transformers), Bumblebee/Optimus Prime
Comments: 8
Kudos: 45





	wouldn't let it show

**Author's Note:**

> so i saw a post on tumblr that said "don't ship op/bee, that's his dad" and i said BET to the gc and then spiraled from there into daddy kink which meant it had to be in bayverse, which meant i had to bring crosshairs into it bc, well, he's hot, and then i went "what about dominance hierarchy fucking?" and then i opened a bottle of wine and now here we are.
> 
> frankly, if you don't like op/bee, that's cool, it's not usually my thing either. i'm just comprised primarily of spite and don't like being told what to do.
> 
> title is from 'battle cry' by imagine dragons bc...bayverse...

Optimus was _gone_ , again, just after he’d gotten him back and Bee was doing his best to focus on the bullshit Crosshairs was saying rather than the punched out hole in his spark where Optimus should be.

“Nary a fucking _word_ and then he’s off again.” Crosshairs kicked at one of the junked out cars in the sprawling yard Cade had found for them to lay low for a while. “Real fucking leader material, that.”

“He is the Prime.” Drift didn’t look up at the crunching metal of Crosshair’s pede denting in the chassis of the car. “You seemed to think he was a decent leader in China.”

“Far be it from me to argue with the mech riding an ancient fucking beastformer.” Crosshairs rolled his optics and gestured to Grimlock, who was laying in such a way for Drift to lean back against his considerable bulk while cleaning his weapons. Grimlock cracked an optic open and huffed, warming the cool desert air around them.

“ _Me Grimlock think You Crosshairs just pussy._ ” The Dinobots hadn’t bothered to upgrade their vocalizers to speech capable, continuing to rely on supersonic transmissions that they were all capable of receiving. Their English integration was also...interesting. Bee ached all over for a second remembering Mikaela and her lectures whenever she caught Sam saying things like that on Xbox Live.

“I am _not_.” Crosshairs bristled, inset weaponry coming to life. Bee ran a critical optic over his frame. That was a lot more inset weaponry than he’d had _before_ infiltrating Lockdown’s ship. “Why don’t you come over here and say that like a mech.”

Grimlock huffed again, this time a small spurt of flame accompanying it. “ _No need. Me Grimlock know beat Him Crosshairs. Me Grimlock think You Crosshairs should get beat by someone own size._ ”

“Now you listen here—” Crosshairs stepped forward, weapons gathering energy.

“ _Crosshairs, stop_.” Bee figured if Grimlock was gonna keep using it, it wouldn’t hurt him to.

“ _You_ are _not_ the boss of me.” Crosshairs whirled around and stalked right into Bee’s space. “Little Prime wannabe, aren’t ya? Why don’t you just fuck off the same way then.”

Bee didn’t back down, as much as it rent his spark to think about Optimus being gone again. “ _Optimus left me in charge_.”

“Optimus Prime didn’t do jack shit before abandoning us, abandoning _you_ , all over again.” Crosshairs snarled. His weapons were still cycling up energy.

“ _Perhaps Him Crosshairs should get beat by someone small size._ ” Grimlock rumbled and Drift laughed. Bee sagged, just a little, air escaping his frame. He really wasn’t in the mood for a fight. Grimlock huffed a massive breath of his own. “ _Them Crosshairs Bumblebee could determine leader like old ways._ ”

Crosshairs’ stare gained a gleam that Bee didn’t like. “That’s the first good idea that hunk of old metal has had yet.”

His weapons powered down and he turned, marching out of the sphere of light the bonfire offered. Bee turned to look at Drift, beseeching. Drift’s smile was benign. “Go. It is not a bad idea...probably.”

“ _What’s the old ways?_ ” Bee shook his doorwings out. There was a scratch between them he couldn’t reach.

“I’m sure Crosshairs will be happy to tell you.” Drift turned his full attention back to the sword in his hands. Grimlock’s head settled back down, optics sliding shut again. Bee huffed and followed Crosshairs into the inky blackness.

It wasn’t fully dark, space black dark, beyond the bonfire’s reach. The desert sky was nothing but stars, and their ambient biolights did more than enough to provide them with enough to see by. Crosshairs stalked forward, not stopping until they were clear of the waist high stacks of cars. “Alright, little Bee.”

His inset weaponry folded away and he fell back into a showy fighting stance. Bee stared at him, servos still loose at his sides. “ _What?_ ”

“Old ways.” Crosshairs denta were bright in his face. “Fight to frag to lead.”

Bee was still trying to turn _that_ over in his processor when Crosshairs decked him across the face. Bee rolled with force of it, falling to the ground and rolling back up out of Crosshairs reach. He lifted his own fists when he rose. “ _What?_ ” 

Crosshairs didn’t bother saying anymore, instead advancing to swing at Bee again. 

The thing of it was that Crosshairs, for all that he’d learned to survive on his own, was still used to fighting with a group. All his training fell back on infantry subprocesses. And even though he liked to give Bee shit every single minute of the day about being just a Scout...Scouts went first. 

Scouts went _alone_. 

Crosshairs advanced and advanced, throwing wild swings, ones that should have been accompanied by someone else sneaking up on Bee’s offside. Bee didn’t have an offside and Crosshairs didn’t have anyone else to fight with him. 

Bee ducked and weaved around each throw, moving light on his pedes, waiting for Crosshairs to tire out, overreach. He caught a flash of Crosshairs’ face, denta grit and nothing but frustration, and changed tacks. His dodges became more showy; pedes moving in unnecessary patterns; he clicked his radio on and scanned the waves until he found a station playing _Eye of the Tiger_. 

Crosshairs snarled and dived at him. 

Bee grabbed his reaching servos just below their grasp, around his wrists, twisting his frame and going down with him. Crosshairs’ back slammed into the desert floor, Bee coming down on top of him, one knee on his abdomen, the other pinning his hips. Crosshairs bucked and tried to flip them, but Bee had his pedes braced against that. 

Crosshairs struggled for a few more minutes, vocalizer spitting frustrated binary. Bee just waited. He was tired again, even if the fight wasn’t much. He didn’t want to be fighting at all. He wanted to curl up in his altmode and not think for a night or two. 

He wanted Optimus back.

Crosshairs finally went limp, optics shining bright and angry up at Bee. “You keep that shit real close to your chest, don’t you little Bee?”

Bee shrugged. He was a Scout who’d been on a team with Jazz for centuries. He was pretty good with secrets. Crosshairs’ vents heaved, the air around them growing warm from their frames. He blinked slowly. “Well then. Claim your prize.”

Bee blinked back, processor playing back the conversation. He stared. Crosshairs’ panel transformed away just below his knee. 

Just as suddenly the exhaustion shifted, fury blazing through his spark. Bee’s own panel shifted away and he swung around, straddling Crosshairs’ hips. Crosshairs stared up at him, optics wild. Bee closed his optics, turning back to supersonic. “ _This doesn’t mean anything. Just frag me._ ”

Bee dropped down on his spike, a small hiss escaping him at the sudden stretch to his too dry valve. Crosshairs’ pedes scrabbled in the sandy dirt. “This isn’t how this is supposed to go.”

“ _Shut up_.” Bee hissed back, lifting up and dropping down again. It _hurt_ , just enough to keep him here, even if he didn’t want to open up his optics and see where here was. He leaned forward, planting his servos on Op— Crosshairs’. It was Crosshairs' chest underneath him, the shape all wrong for what he wanted.

Bee cracked his optics and caught Crosshairs' gaze. “ _This isn’t mentioned again. Ever. The fight, the frag, none of it. Anything...anything I say...just— Never again._ ”

“Deal.” Crosshairs got a grip on his hips and flipped them. Bee let him this time, arching into his thrust. His valve was still too dry, but Crosshairs was leaking enough to smooth the way with each pass of his spike. His thrusts were uneven, messy and hard, jolting Bee through the dirt. 

Crosshairs dropped forward, pressing his face into Bee’s intake. The shape of him against Bee’s front was _wrong_ , it was all wrong, and Bee’s valve tightened. He shoved Crosshairs back. “ _Hold on_.”

He pushed him back enough that Crosshairs slipped from his valve and turned over, dropping down to his elbows and tilting his hips back. “ _Don’t even think about touching my doors, asshole._ ”

Crosshairs gripped his hips and pulled him back, spike shoving back in. Bee closed his optics again, focusing on just the spike in his valve. It wasn’t the right shape or girth, but he could make a spike a spike a spike in his own imagination. Crosshairs was quiet at least, didn’t try to say any stupid macho shit that Bee didn’t want to here.

 _There you go boy._

Bee moaned, a broken sound. He buried his face in his forearm, chasing the processing tree. Optimus’s voice, warm and sonorous echoed through his processor. _Take it nice and easy, don’t you boy?_ _Easy for Daddy._

Crosshairs’ spike pounded in his valve. The angle was wrong, and it didn’t quite reach the deep set nodes that Optimus could, but he was _there_. Crosshairs was here and alive and fucking him. What good was a Daddy that wasn’t _here_? Bee set his processor to record all this in a memory file for export. _You’ll see Optimus_ , he thought viciously, _see what happens when you leave your boy._

“Fuck, Bee.” Crosshairs’ hips hitched, pressing deep once, twice, then stilling. Bee’s frame tried to answer the rush of overload with his own, but the charge was weak and unsatisfying. Bee didn’t move when Crosshairs pulled away, the air between them heavy and uneasy now. “I’ll uh—”

“ _Just go. Not a word_.” Bee didn’t lift his face from his arm. His frame was still running hot, anger slowly petering out and just leaving him uncomfortable. He listened to Crosshairs' receding pedesteps and vented slowly.

He didn’t stand up to transform, ignoring the spread of transfluid throughout his altmode as he did. A drive would make him feel better. Just another drive.

**Author's Note:**

> any mistakes in here are entirely my own, i wrote and posted this in a spite and wine fueled haze, which is also probably why i made grimlock say pussy.
> 
> come yell at me about robot nasties on twitter [@robopunkcfb](https://twitter.com/robopunkcfb)


End file.
